Poppy
by WillowDryad
Summary: In which the High King takes on a very tiny new responsibility. Golden Age. No slash. Thanks to narniagirl11 for the great cover art!
1. Introductions

**Disclaimer: Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

INTRODUCTIONS

"King Peter! King Peter!"

Peter could barely hear the tiny voice over the roar of the flames. Marauding Giants had set fire to the woods, and Peter and his soldiers had worn themselves out trying to extinguish it.

"King Peter!" The Bunny stood up against his leg, unable to reach higher than his ankle. "Please, Sir, Mummy and Daddy, my brothers and sisters–"

With a crash, a tree collapsed into itself, obliterating the little rabbit warren beneath. The Bunny hid her face against Peter's boot, and he scooped her up, cuddling her against his racing heart.

"You stay with me."

OOOOO

Peter breathed a sigh of relief when Cair Paravel came into view. His horse had collapsed from smoke inhalation, so like most of his soldiers, he was on foot. Like all of them, he was covered with soot and grime and unspeakably weary. Still, he had to smile when he saw his sisters among the press of creatures awaiting the army's return.

Susan and Lucy threaded their way through the crowd, past an embracing Badger couple, past a Faun and his elderly parents, around a Fox and his seven Kits, until they reached their brother.

"Peter! Peter!"

Lucy flung herself towards him, but he held her off, laughing hoarsely.

"Easy, Lu. Hold on there."

The smiles on the faces of both of his sisters immediately vanished.

"Are you hurt?" Susan reached her hand up to his cheek, blue eyes filled with concern, the same concern that was mirrored in Lucy's.

Peter only gave them a weary grin. "Nothing worth mentioning. I just didn't want you to scare her."

The girls looked at each other. "Her?"

Peter reached carefully into his sweat-stained shirt and brought out a little bundle of brown fluff not even the size of his hand.

"Oh, Peter!" Lucy squealed, reaching for it. "How sweet!"

The Bunny shrank back against Peter, brown eyes enormous, and he cuddled her in both hands against his chest.

"Let's go inside, Lu. Come on, Susan. She's scared enough without all this crowd."

The three of them made their way back into the castle and up to Peter's bedchamber.

"Now," he said, sitting on the bed. "I think it's time we had some proper introductions."

He set the Bunny on his lap, and she hid her face against him.

"We won't hurt you," Susan soothed, and Lucy smiled gently.

"We're your friends."

The Bunny peeped at them over Peter's hand.

"These are my sisters." Peter stroked one finger between the long, quivering ears. "Queen Lucy and Queen Susan. You'll like them." He gave the Bunny an encouraging smile. "Really."

She only trembled and tried to crawl back into his shirt. With an apologetic shrug, he let her.

"She's had rather a bad time of it, I'm afraid," he told the girls. "Better let me see to her."

Susan put her hand to his cheek again. "You look all in. Seriously, Peter, are you all right?"

"Nothing a bath and a good sleep won't put right." He looked reluctantly at the little bulge in his shirt, and then he reached in and brought out the Bunny again. "Will you excuse me, little one, while I take a moment to make myself presentable?"

The Bunny looked at him, wide eyed.

"I'm sure we have some lovely carrots and lettuce in the kitchen," Lucy said. "Why don't you come with us and we'll get you some."

Peter handed the Bunny to her. The tiny creature didn't struggle. She only looked at him with big, tear-filled eyes. He gave his sisters a helpless look and took her back, sheltering her once more in his shirt.

"Maybe you two should go. Let me get everything sorted here. It'll be all right."

Susan pursed her lips. "But, Peter, your bath is all ready for you and–"

"It's all right, Su." He gave her a weary grin. "But maybe you could have some food sent up. Heavy on the carrots."

Lucy looked at him uncertainly, and he squeezed her hand.

"I'll tell you about it in a bit, all right? Any word from Ed?"

"He sent a Falcon yesterday," Susan said. "Negotiations went very well, and he's on his way home. He'll likely be back by tomorrow."

Peter nodded. "Excellent. I daresay diplomatic banqueting is a sight more enjoyable than putting out forest fires."

"Poor Peter." Lucy patted his cheek, her eyes sympathetic but twinkling all the same. "And you know Edmund would have rather been here helping you."

Peter squeezed her hand and brought it briefly to his lips. "I could certainly have used the help. It was a bad blaze. Lots of Trees and Animals lost." He felt the little bundle of warmth in his shirt tremble at that, and he didn't say anything more about it right then. "We'll talk about it later, Lu. Don't worry."

She kissed his cheek. "All right. Get your bath and then get some sleep."

Susan kissed his other cheek. "I'll send up something for you both to eat."

When they had gone, Peter again took the Bunny out of his shirt and set her down on the bed. Then he removed his shirt, gingerly peeling it off the burned place across his right shoulder. He hissed softly and then smiled at his wide-eyed observer.

"Did you get burned, King Peter?" she asked, her voice barely a squeak.

Peter tossed his shirt onto the bed and cupped one comforting hand around her. "Just a little bit. It's all right."

"Burning hurts, doesn't it?"

He knew she was thinking of more than the burn on his shoulder, and he cradled her against his bare chest.

"I was wondering something," he said gently. "You know my name, but I still don't know yours."

She wriggled a little and finally nestled under his chin, whispering something he couldn't quite hear. He had to hold her up again so he could see her face.

"What was that?"

She blinked at him, still looking rather unsettled.

"It's all right," he assured her. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not."

"Poppy." She blinked again, her little nose twitching rapidly, and then she looked shyly away. "Poppy."

"I don't want you to be afraid here, Poppy, all right?" He stroked between her ears again. "Nobody is going to hurt you, and if you get scared, you come find me. Whatever's bothering you, I'll take care of it, okay?"

He couldn't fix what was no doubt hurting her most, but he could see she was looked after from now on.

She only nodded in response, and with another caress, he set her back down on the bed. She hopped over to nestle in his discarded shirt, watching him with round brown eyes as he unlaced his boots and kicked them off. He stood up then, meaning to remove his breeches so he could bathe, but he stopped where he was. If this had been that Other Place, he would, of course, have thought nothing of it. But they were here in Narnia, and she was a Talking Beast, albeit a tiny one. He was sure her poor mother and father would have wanted the proprieties to be observed. Well, he could always finish undressing at the tub.

He leaned down to the Bunny. "Why don't you stay right here for a bit while I get myself cleaned up? Won't be a minute."

Her fuzzy chin quivered, and once more her brown eyes filled with tears. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. He was already sunk. Poppy couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, but he was sure she could have taught even Lucy a thing or two about getting round a fellow.

He sighed and, with a rueful grin, stretched out on the bed. The Bunny immediately hopped over and nestled once more under his chin. He cupped both hands around her and closed his eyes.

"How about we both just have a little nap, huh?"

He felt a little tickle of whiskers against his neck and heard a tiny voice just as he was drifting into sleep.

"King Peter?"

"Yes, Poppy?"

"Are you going to send me away after a while?"

"No, Poppy," he murmured, cuddling her closer. "You stay with me."

**Author's Note: One of the words in the challenge I just did was "bunny." This little sweetheart popped into my head and insisted on having more than the hundred word limit with her beloved High King. I don't know if anything more will come of it, but here it is for what it's worth.**

–**WD**


	2. More Introductions

**Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

MORE INTRODUCTIONS

For all his warrior reputation, High King Peter had the softest heart in all Narnia. If Edmund hadn't known it already, he was sure of it now. It was so like Peter to go with his soldiers to fight forest fires and come home with an orphaned baby Bunny. Now he was sprawled on his bed, bootless and shirtless, sound asleep with the little fur ball nestled under his chin, evidently too tired to make it to his bath.

Edmund laughed softly as he set down the tray he had brought up with him, and with a start, Peter woke.

"Ed? What are you doing here?" He blinked and struggled into a sitting position, holding the Bunny against his chest. "I didn't think you'd be back before tomorrow, earliest."

"We made good time, and Su sent me up with your supper." Edmund grinned. "Heavy on the carrots. Who's this?"

Peter set the Bunny down in his lap, keeping one hand around her as she shrank against him, nose twitching.

"This is Poppy. She's staying with us now. Poppy, this is my brother, King Edmund."

"Poppy, it is an honor." Edmund gave her his courtliest bow. "You are most welcome to Cair Paravel."

She looked at him with solemn brown eyes. "You're funny."

Edmund blinked. "Me? I'm not funny."

Peter snickered. "Sure you are, Ed."

"Funny?"

"Sure. Like 'this soup tastes funny,' you know?"

Edmund rolled his eyes, and Peter snickered again.

"Or 'you smell funny.'"

"You're one to talk."

Peter scowled at him. "I _have _been putting out forest fires after all, not just stuffing myself for days at royal banquets."

Nose wrinkled, Edmund picked up his discarded shirt and held it away from him with two fingers.

"You might have changed." He dropped the shirt back onto the bed and then looked Peter up and down. "And washed."

Still scowling, Peter nodded at Poppy. "Tell _her_ that."

Edmund looked at the tiny Bunny and shook his head. "Are you telling me, O Magnificent Warrior-King of Narnia, that you couldn't bathe because this minuscule little ball of fluff wouldn't let you?"

Peter raked his hand through his dirty hair, making it stick up more wildly than before. "It's not exactly that. I just . . ."

He gave Edmund a helpless, pleading look, and Edmund understood at once. It was the whole Lucy quandary in miniature. But, over the years, the brothers had worked out a somewhat-successful strategy for dealing with irresistible blue eyes. Perhaps it would work as well with brown.

"Pushover." Edmund smirked at his brother, and then he took a carrot from the tray. "Are you hungry, Poppy?"

Peter took his hand from around her, and the Bunny leaned towards the carrot Edmund offered. With an uncertain glance at Peter, she took the tiniest of nibbles.

Edmund sat on the bed next to them, still holding the carrot, talking softly to her the whole time. Soon, by slow degrees, he had the Bunny in his own lap, and Peter managed to slip away.

"And when my sister Lucy was about your age," Edmund told his tiny visitor, "she used to love to hear one particular story about a Bunny. Actually, it was about four Bunnies."

Poppy's chewing had grown gradually slower and now her eyes began to blink sleepily. Edmund made his voice a little softer.

"The girl Bunnies were called Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotton-tail, and the boy Bunny was called Peter. Now one day–"

The Bunny's eyes popped open wide and she looked around. "Where's King Peter? He said I could stay with him."

Drat. Why did he have to pick _that_ story?

"It's all right, Poppy. He's just gone to wash." Edmund stroked the back of her head as gently as he was able. "Come on. You haven't finished your carrot."

"But what if he doesn't come back?"

"He'll come back. Don't worry." Edmund tried to sound especially cheerful and assured. "He'll be back before you know it. And, after all, when he said you could stay with him, I don't think he meant every single minute. But he'll come back. You'll see."

The brown eyes filled with tears. "Mummy and Daddy didn't come back."

With a wounded glance at him, she hopped off his lap and nestled in Peter's grimy shirt.

"Come on, Poppy," Edmund pled, feeling as if he had just committed some unpardonable atrocity. "Look, here's your nice carrot and there's some lettuce, too, and–"

She wouldn't look at him anymore, no matter how he coaxed. Finally, he picked her up, shirt and all.

"Look. He's just on the other side of this door." Edmund tapped on the door. "I say, Peter?"

"What?" Peter called back. "Can't a fellow have a moment's peace?"

Edmund smiled at Poppy. "See? He's just in there."

The Bunny sniffled. "But what if he doesn't come out?"

"He'll have to come out pretty soon, don't you think? His supper's out here."

"But he said I could stay with him always." Edmund's encouraging smile faded as her tears finally spilled over. "He said."

Edmund knocked again, this time with a bit more urgency. "Peter? I think you'd better come out."

"I'm all over soap, Ed."

"Really, Pete. You need to come out now."

He could hear Peter grumbling and sloshing around in the water, but in just a minute more, the door opened. Peter was dripping wet, but at least he had on clean breeches and a fresh shirt.

"Poppy." He looked at the Bunny, head tilted to one side, only the slightest bit of exasperation in his fond smile. Then, with a knowing grin, he took her from Edmund. "You were saying, O Just Warrior-King of Narnia?"

Poppy nestled contentedly against Peter's chest again, and Edmund could only give him a helpless shrug.

"Well, I suppose I should go have my own supper then. Wouldn't mind a bath, too, come to think of it. Then I ought to–"

"Don't go away, King Edmund." The Bunny was peeping at him again over Peter's hand, but now her expression was more appealing than wary. "Don't go."

He smiled a little. "It's all right. Peter's got you. I'll come back and see you la–"

"But I don't want you to go."

She blinked those big brown eyes as if that were reason enough, and he turned to Peter.

"Do you suppose there's enough food here for the three of us?"

Peter sighed. "You may as well have a seat."

Edmund handed his brother a carrot and took one for himself. "She's got Lucy beat all hollow."

Peter just laughed.

"Pushover."

**Author's Note: I'm not sure why I wrote this, except I decided Edmund should be conquered by Poppy, too. What do you think? Should I write any more Poppy stories?**

–**WD**


	3. Even More Introductions

**Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

EVEN MORE INTRODUCTIONS

Oreius crossed his arms over his bare chest, frowning as he watched the young Kings sparring. For some reason King Peter was favoring the right side of his midsection, and King Edmund was obviously not putting his full strength behind his twin blades.

"Halt!" the Centaur ordered, and both foals stepped back, panting slightly but hardly pushed to their limit. "The two of you spar like week-old Kittens. A spring Lamb could easily best you both at once, fighting as you are. Now put some muscle into it."

The Kings began again, circling each other, eyes wary, neither of them seeming willing to strike.

"Go on!" Oreius shouted, and Edmund finally took a halfhearted swipe at his brother.

Peter jerked out of the way, covering his middle with his left hand, holding up the sword in his right to parry the Just King's blade. They stumbled about for a minute or two more, and then the Centaur held up his hand.

"Halt. Halt." He glared at both of them. "What is this? You haven't sparred this badly since before Beruna, How, and then you'd had your sword for only a day or two. Have you learned nothing in the past four years?"

Edmund ducked his head. "Sorry."

Oreius snorted in disgust. "And you, Wolfsbane. Are you hurt?"

Peter's face was suddenly red. "N-no. I'm fine."

"Then what's wrong with you?" The Centaur jabbed two fingers towards Peter's middle, and the foal flinched away from him. "Explain yourself."

Edmund swallowed hard. "We, uh–"

"Would visiting the points of the compass help you both focus?" Oreius asked.

The Kings looked at each other, dark and light eyes wide. Visiting the points of the compass was Oreius's favorite conditioning exercise as it involved having the young Kings run as quickly as they were able to the top of the north tower of the castle and then to the top of the east, south and west towers before returning to the training yard. It was grueling, but it was helpful for getting the foals to put their full attention and energy into the lessons he was trying to teach, lessons that might one day save their lives.

"Start again," he ordered instead.

Edmund looked worriedly at his older brother and then lifted his sword. "Come on, Pete."

Peter nodded, crouching a little and holding his sword low to shield his middle. Edmund swung one of his blades, clashing with Peter's, driving him back a step.

"Careful, Ed!"

"Careful?" Oreius glared at them, halting the match once again. "Wolfsbane, tell me this instant what ails you. Are you ill?"

Peter ducked his head, turning a little away from him. "No, Oreius."

"Then what is wrong?"

"N-nothing, Oreius."

"Very well." The Centaur took one of Edmund's swords and stood in front of Peter. "Come then."

"Oreius–"

"Now, Wolfsbane!"

Still crouching slightly, Peter lifted his sword. In two moves, Oreius had Rhindon on the ground and his borrowed sword pointed at Peter's middle.

Peter shielded himself with both hands. "Wait."

Oreius lifted one eyebrow and then prodded at him with his sword point. "What is it?"

"I don't–"

"Right there," Oreius insisted. "What is it?"

Peter and Edmund exchanged another guilty glance, and then Peter started rummaging under his chain mail. Finally, he brought out something cupped in both hands.

Once again, the Centaur crossed his arms over his chest. "Well?"

"It's–" Peter smiled, cringing a little, and opened his hands to reveal a tiny Bunny with enormous brown eyes. "It's Poppy."

Oreius blinked. "Poppy?"

Both foals nodded.

Poppy peeped at the Centaur over Peter's hand, her little nose working furiously.

Peter stroked her back. "Poppy, this is Oreius. He's the General of our army."

"Hello," she said, her piping little voice barely audible.

Oreius bowed gravely. "Poppy, it is a pleasure to meet you. Now, if you would pardon Their Majesties, our Kings must continue their training. You must go back into the Cair until they have finished."

The Bunny pressed up against Peter, whispering something the Centaur could not hear, and the colt smiled down on her.

"Of course he likes you."

She stared back at Oreius, obviously unconvinced, and then nestled closer to the High King.

"It is not a question of liking, Small One," Oreius explained with his usual gravity. "I fear it is not safe for you–"

"But he said."

Oreius frowned, unused to having his orders questioned during training. "He said? Who said? Said what?"

"King Peter." The Bunny's voice was soft but very certain. "He said I could stay with him always."

"Did you tell her that, Wolfsbane?"

Peter swallowed hard. "I, uh–"

"Did you or didn't you?"

"I told her she could stay with me, Oreius. I didn't exactly say always, not every minute of every day anyway. At least I don't think so."

Oreius scowled. "What about you, How? What do you know about this?"

"Me?" Edmund cleared his throat and started again with his voice in its usual register. "I'm not actually sure. I wasn't there. But I know she's lost her family and Peter said she could stay, so, um . . . "

"This is no place for little ones. What were you two thinking bringing her in here and sparring, putting her in range of your weapons? She could have been stabbed or crushed. Now get her out of here."

The two colts looked at each other as if he had asked them to fall on their swords or, worse, to plunge those swords into each other's hearts.

"But, Oreius–" Once more, the High King looked at his brother.

"We just thought she . . ."

King Edmund's voice trailed off under the General's stern glare. Without another word, Oreius reached out, and helpless, Peter turned his small charge over to him. She looked even tinier in the Centaur's broad hand than she had before, and she shrank away from him as much as she was able.

"You needn't fear, little Poppy," Oreius said, his expression softening. "I will see you are looked after until training is finished. Then–"

"But he said."

Those big brown eyes filled with tears, and Oreius cleared his throat.

"Now, Poppy, I am certain the High King meant you were to stay here at Cair Paravel and that he would have you looked after, but from time to time he will have certain duties and obligations that will require–"

"He said."

The tears spilled over onto the Bunny's twitching nose, and Oreius looked over at the Kings. He had charged fearlessly against armies of monsters and battled witches, but this little Bunny? As quickly as he could, he handed her back to Peter.

"A promise is a promise, Wolfsbane."

Peter held Poppy against his chest once more. "But, Oreius, how are we going to–"

"Perhaps, we ought to, um, vary our training regimen. Just this once. I, ah, do not doubt there will be times, Your Majesties, when patient endurance will benefit you as much as speed and strength. With that in mind, I think you both should visit the points of the compass." The colts groaned, but the Centaur held up one hand to silence them. "This time, take an easy pace." He glanced at Poppy. "Go slowly so you will be able to . . . observe your surroundings as you go. Consider it reconnaissance training. Go now."

The Kings looked at each other in astonishment, but when they turned to walk away, Poppy peeped at the Centaur over Peter's shoulder.

"Aren't you coming with us?"

"I?" Oreius cleared his throat. "I don't usually–"

"But I want you to come with us."

She blinked at him, and the Kings looked at each other, not daring to move.

The Centaur shifted on his hooves and then made a brief bow. "Perhaps, it would be instructive if I . . ."

He trailed off, daring the foals with a hard look to make a sound.

They didn't, but they were looking absolutely smug by the time they all sauntered towards the north tower with Poppy still cradled against Peter's chest. And Oreius's sharp ears caught what the younger King murmured to the elder.

"Pushover."

The Centaur only smiled faintly as he walked behind them. After all, there were lots of training sessions in the Kings' future. Lots and lots of training sessions. They wouldn't be smug for long.

**Author's Note: Okay, how could I resist having Poppy conquer Oreius?**

–**WD**


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